


to ask where you go at night

by mothwrites



Series: this thing we keep (and dip into when we need) [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Comics), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Choking, Enthusiastic Consent, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter deals with a break-up by being a Bit Of A Hoe, Matt tries and fails to control his jealousy, fun and consensual roughing up ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to ask where you go at night

**Author's Note:**

> This was an experiment in letting Peter be a hoe while keeping him in character and a self-indulgent excuse to write about pretty boys getting bruised. This is TASM Peter aged up - he's 20/21 years old. The break-up was with Gwen (she moved to Oxford, it was amicable and nobody died.)  
> Title from "Genghis Khan" by Miike Snow.

Matt could smell the club on him. Peter had been a frequent visitor in the last few weeks as he got over his break-up and re-entered the world of nightclubs; bright drinks, sticky floors, and _men._ There was something different about tonight. Usually Peter found an excuse to drop by, smelling of a mix of different colognes, and sweat, and Matt would be terse and uninterested and try so hard _not_ to think about Peter writhing underneath him, smelling like _him_ and him alone. More than once, Matt had cursed his pride in not allowing himself to become a rebound.

This time, Matt had come to visit. His pride was failing him, tonight. Or maybe it was his willpower. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You’ve very close,” Peter noted, the smirk evident in his voice. Matt smelt alcohol on his clothes - but not his breath - then noticed how Peter was leaning into him, and pulled him forward by his hips.

“You know, you _stink_ of someone else. You keep bringing it into my apartment, and expect me to just sit _idly by._ ”

“You can smell that?” Peter tried his best to sound apologetic, but a quick brush of his lips under Matt’s thumb showed Matt he was grinning. _Game on._

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Matt murmured, stern and statuesque while Peter squirmed under his wandering fingers. “You’ve been letting all those guys have you, marking you up-“

“I’m not _marked_ -“

Matt brushed his thumb against the skin of Peter’s collarbone and waited for the quiet gasp showing him the right location before he dug his fingers into the bruises on his soft skin. “So what are these?”

“Jesus, Matt, I’m a vigilante, I fight crime. I get bruises.”

“On your neck? Those must be some very intimate fights.” Peter shivered in lieu of an answer as Matt bent his head down to drag his tongue across the bruises that were higher on his neck. “Did you ask them to hurt you?”

“Not in so many words,” Peter gasped out.

“Are you going to ask _me?”_

“I have to ask? You seem like you’ve made up your mind,” Peter joked, still trying to divest Matt of his shirt.

“Peter.” Matt grabbed his wrist, but not so in a way that Peter couldn’t get out if he wanted. “It’s important that you ask.”

“You just like it when I squirm,” Peter complained, but continued, “What was the phrase you used? Oh, right. Matt, will you please ‘mark me up’ in a fun and consensual way?”

Matt allowed himself a genuine laugh before his smile dropped into something dark and predatory. He pulled Peter in for a rough kiss, and when Peter’s hand snaked up to take off Matt’s glasses, he caught his wrist again and forced him into an arm lock. A small gasp of pleasant surprise hovered high over the sound of Peter’s rapid heartbeat and Matt savoured it.

“Get on the bed.”

When he was released Peter spun around and scrambled back until he was sat in the middle of the bed, leaning on his forearms to look up at Matt with lust and nervous anticipation in his eyes. Matt took the opportunity to shuck his tie and blazer before moving directly into Peter’s space, forcing his legs apart to kneel in between them. His hand met a buttoned collar at Peter’s neck – interesting, he’d dressed up – and as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt he took the opportunity to find the bruises there by cataloguing Peter’s reactions to the touch on his skin. Matt dragged his thumb across the hollow of his throat, and _squeezed._

Peter’s head tipped back and he let out a long, drawn-out moan. “God,” he rasped, “I’ve always wanted you to do that.”

“That’s convenient. I’ve always wanted you to shut up.” Matt squeezed again, waiting for that sound – the _choke_ – before relinquishing his hold and diving onto the soft skin around Peter’s collarbones. His tongue traced the marks left by other men and he sucked, making the bruises deeper, making them _his._ Underneath him Peter whimpered and his legs fell open even wider. Matt paused in his ministrations. “I don’t suppose you own a spreader bar?”

“Nope.”

“Pity. My place next time.”

“Jesus. Can I suck you off?

Matt suppressed a shiver and tried to act like the thought of it hadn’t been driving him wild. He sat up straight. “Ask me nicely.”

“ _May_ I suck you off? Pretty please?” Peter moved backwards until he was sat low against the headboard, ready and inviting. His hands were on Matt’s hips, toying with the button on his suit trousers, and his voice dropped from playfully wheedling to low and earnest. “I want to make you feel good.”

“What a good boy,” Matt murmured, and Peter took that as an invitation to unbutton him, pulling down his trousers and underwear with relish. Matt’s cock sprang free from his briefs and he heard the unmistakeable sound of Peter licking his lips before he kissed the tip and pressed kitten licks to the head of Matt’s rapidly stiffening cock.

“Cute. Open your mouth.”

Peter did as he was told and Matt let the weight settle on his tongue, letting Peter get used to it for just a second, before thrusting forward. Peter responded enthusiastically, bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock until Matt curled his fingers in his hair and pulled him forward. He pulled experimentally on his hair and Peter moaned around him, the vibrations moving all the way up through his spine. Matt pulled again and the head of his cock grazed the back of Peter’s throat. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, overwhelmed with the feeling of it. Peter swallowed.

“ _Jesus_ –“

Peter pulled away with a _pop._ “Did you just blaspheme? Am I that good?”

“ _Peter._ ” He twisted a clump of hair in his fingertips and Peter let out a harsh cry of pain, followed by a weak laugh. “Think very carefully before teasing me.”

“Yes sir,” Peter muttered – a victory – and swallowed him back down again. Matt lost himself in the back of his throat until he knew he couldn’t take any more, and pushed Peter back down and off his cock. Peter whimpered a little at the loss, so Matt substituted his fingers as he tried to regulate his breathing and control himself. He ducked down to bite at Peter’s earlobe, just because he could, and then murmured again.

“Do you want me to hurt you?”

“I want you to _touch_ me,” Peter whined. Matt had to marvel at his patience so far. He’d managed to shuck off his trousers, but his dick was straining against his briefs and there was a wet patch on the cotton.

“Did you touch yourself while you were blowing me?”

“Of course I did, I’m not a _saint._ ”

Matt growled, and moved away. “Get down. On your stomach.” Peter scrambled to obey and Matt moved behind him to peel away the briefs. Peter tried to rub himself off against the sheets; Matt heard the friction, and then the sound of a sharp crack as he slapped the side of Peter’s ass.

Peter stopped dead, as if considering things, and then – “ _Oh my God._ Matt. Do that again.”

Instead of complying, Matt bent forward to kiss the back of Peter’s neck, letting his dick just graze Peter’s skin in the process. Peter let out something akin to a sob. “ _Matt._ ”

“Ask me nicely,” Matt said again.  

“Matt, _please._ ” His voice sounded broken and scratchy from the throat-fucking, giving him a pitiable air. “Please just touch me, hit me, _anything._ ”

Matt rewarded him with another sharp slap, right on the cheek. Peter wailed, and pushed his ass up. Matt pushed him back down and popped him again, feeling the sting of the skin on skin go up through his hand. The heat came off Peter in waves, his heartbeat accelerating. Matt smacked again in the same spot, _hard,_ and Peter let out a real sob.

“God, _Matt._ ”

“Did you let the others do this?” He asked, voice low and gravelly. “Did you let them treat you like this?”

“Only the ones who kinda looked like you,” Peter replied smartly. “Please –“

“Hit you again? Is that what you want?”

“You _know_ I do,” Peter whined, pushing his ass up again. “Quit making me beg for it.”

Matt massaged the skin, and pushed his knuckles into the sore spot until Peter flinched. With his other hand he slapped the other cheek; lower, where his ass met his thigh, delighting in the high-pitched yelp that resulted from it. Matt started a series of strikes, hard and fast, Peter moaning under his every touch. He smelled like salt water and pre-come. He slapped him once more and then hauled him up until he was sat, flushed, with his back against Matt’s chest, his own chest heaving.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked quietly.

“P-perfect. That was amazing.” Peter wasn’t short of breath, but he was stuttering and his words caught like there was a lump in his throat. “Matt, if you don’t touch me I’m going to _combust, please,_ help a guy out.”

“I wanted to fuck you,” Matt admitted, “but I think you’re too sore. Later.” He kissed away a tear on Peter’s cheek and reached a hand around to firmly grasp his cock. It felt searing hot, and only took one, two, three pumps of his hand; slick with Peter’s pre-come until the man buckled and cried out, his orgasm spurting through Matt’s fingers. Peter spun around and buried his face in Matt’s shoulder, shaking through the after-shocks.

“Thank you,” he gasped, and Matt felt like he could almost come from that whispered reverence alone. Peter reached for his cock shakily, and it wasn’t long before Matt joined him, the final release overwhelming him and whiting-out his senses for a few glorious moments.

Peter pushed him backwards so they were both lying down. “Breathe, man. I got you.” His composure was back, if shaky. Matt reached out; almost disoriented, and carded his hand through Peter’s hair. “We should have been doing this the whole time,” Peter pointed out, settling down with his head on Matt’s chest. He webbed a blanket that had been kicked aside to cover them. “If I knew all it took was a few weeks of being a hoe, I’d have gone down to that stupid club months ago.”

Matt felt sleep settle on him, and knew he’d feel unbearably sticky later, but held Peter close anyway. “You didn’t let anyone really hurt you, did you?”

“Only in a fun way,” Peter agreed. “I’m a responsible hoe. Break-ups are hard.”

“We should get some ice for you. Unless you don’t plan on sitting down at any point tomorrow.”

Peter chuckled, and then winced at how hoarse he sounded. “Let me enjoy the moment, Matt.”

“Hmm. Five minutes.” Peter made a sound of sleepy contentment as Matt continued to stroke his hair.

“Matt?”

“What, is the moment over?”

“No, it’s just – “ Peter squirmed a little against him, and smiled. “Do you really own a spreader bar?”


End file.
